The light in the pit did not fade.
Even as Quinn helped Kaelen to his feet—his once-mighty form dimmed to barely a whisper of silver—the glow beneath them pulsed like a second heart. The wound wasn’t closed. Not fully. It throbbed with the weight of something older than blood, still watching, still waiting.
Jace stood just behind them, panting, blood smeared down his temple. His hands trembled, not from fear—but from the sheer force it had taken to hold Kaelen’s essence intact. Now, as silence finally settled, his knees gave way and he collapsed into Quinn’s arms.
Their foreheads touched, breath shallow, hearts still racing in sync.
“He’s not gone,” Jace whispered, voice raw. “He’s just… hiding again.”
Quinn nodded. “Then we don’t let him rest.”
Kaelen’s eyes—now dull silver instead
